


Harry Potter and the Fourth Champion

by publius_ham



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Triwizard Tournament AU, more tags will be added when need be in the future
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-14 01:15:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11197383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/publius_ham/pseuds/publius_ham
Summary: Harry Potter is due to start his eighth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He wasn’t thrilled to be back, despite his friends Ron and Hermione’s nagging, afraid of all the memories hitting him where it hurt most. However, memories and thoughts of what has been might be more real-life than he had anticipated, the events of a big competition that happened four years ago back full-force to turn his life upside-down… And what has Draco Malfoy to do with it all?





	Harry Potter and the Fourth Champion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [froekenpest](https://archiveofourown.org/users/froekenpest/gifts).



Harry Potter wanted to disapparate far, far away.

He didn’t care that he didn’t officially had his licence yet - didn’t care that he would probably break a dozen laws and traumatize all the innocent muggles racing by if they saw him disappear from the backseat of the car.

(He’d never had any concern with the little technicalities of the  _ law _ , anyway.) 

He wanted this, firstly because he had been woken up roughly that morning by none other than Pig – the worst named overly-energetic owl and fourth resident of the lousy apartment Harry had stayed in all summer – and secondly because despite his persistence in saying no a million times, he still found himself crammed up in Hermione’s new car, his old trunk in between his legs and on his way to the one place he had vowed not to go to again.

“Watch it,” Ron heaved between his clenched teeth, his hand so tightly wrapped around the handle at the door his knuckles had turned white, “you’re going to kill us.”

Hermione snorted, taking a sudden sharp left turn without slowing down. “I’m not going to kill you.”

Harry tried his best not to squeal like Pig had that morning when his trunk pressed down somewhere he did not like to be pressed  _ thanks very much _ . “You are,” Harry offered then, meekly. How she’d passed her driver’s test in one go astounded him – but then again, Hermione was quite the master in the  _ Confundus _ spell; she had once used it to get Ron a spot on the Gryffindor Quidditch team after all and who said she hadn’t use it on her instructor to ensure her license? “ _ Voldemort  _ couldn’t do it –”

Ron jerked in his seat, but Harry stubbornly ignored it.

“- but Hermione Granger, yup,  _ that’s _ the person who’s going to kill the Chosen One.”

Hermione laughed. “Don’t call yourself the  _ Chosen One _ , Harry, that’s weird.”

“Not even the Daily Prophet calls you that anymore, mate.”

“Not my point.”

“Regardless,” Hermione went on, smiling at Harry in her rear-view mirror, “Technically, You-Know-Who  _ did _ kill you. You were just too stubborn to listen.”

“She’s got a point, you know,” Ron chipped in, too frigid in his seat to look back at Harry, but he could hear Ron was smiling from the smug tone of his voice. 

“Biased,” Harry muttered under his breath, and Ron laughed - which quickly turned into a not-so manly shriek when Hermione braked without either proper reason or cause.

So, yeah, Harry gladly wanted to disapparate to somewhere far, far away.

At the moment, though, he’d rather stay in this lousy and quite possibly lethal vehicle than set foot again in the one place that had brought him horrible night-terrors all throughout the summer, the one place where they were headed; Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

 

⚡

 

When they finally arrived at the platform, Harry was sure the panic was going to force him to pass out.

It wasn’t that he was being whiny and probably overreacting - that was  _ definitely _ the case, just seeing the Hogwarts Express shouldn’t make him feel as though he was going to choke - but it was just the entire idea of going back to the place where he’d been killed that wasn’t all that appealing. 

Nor the fact that every single person - safe for one or two muggle parents dropping off their kids - was staring at him, at his scar, their mouths open and pointing.

“ _ Honestly _ ,” Hermione snapped, Crookshanks wrapped tightly in her arms and her trunk hovering behind her. “When are they ever going to grow up? It’s like they’ve never seen you before.” She huffed at a fifteen-year-old boy who was gaping at them, and it was clear that she was fighting the urge to stick out her tongue at him. “He was fighting  _ against _ you just a few months ago! And look at him now, the hypocritical little -”

Harry shrugged noncommittally. He didn’t mind the people who’d switched sides - he minded the staring in general. Couldn’t people, just for once, stare at someone else? 

Just for the heck of it?

“Can you blame them?” Ron was pulling along his trunk unceremoniously, having never quite mastered the hovering charm without incidents. A small first-year yelped indignantly when Ron’s trunk ran over their foot, and Ron just grinned and mouthed a quick  _ ‘sorry _ ’ before continuing, “Any anti-Harry behaviour and they’d be lynched by the ministry, you know what happened to the Malfoys -”

“What about the Malfoys?” Harry whipped his head around to look at Ron, purposefully not noticing the exasperated look his friends gave him. “They’ve been cleared from their crimes, they haven’t been  _ lynched _ .” 

Harry was sure of it. 

He’d been keeping track -  _ not _ stalking, thank you very much - of what the Malfoys had been up to all summer, and they’d seemed to have gone through it without a single glitch. He knew Draco and Narcissa had gone to France to visit his grandmother, and that Lucius had tried to fix the Malfoy Manor with the slight disadvantage of having been denied back his wand, and - yeah, okay. Fine. Maybe he knew more than he ought to. 

“Not yet,” Ron nudged his chin to someone not far from them, and added darkly; “but that’s only a matter of time.”

As if rehearsed, Hermione and Harry turned on their heels at the same time, probably staring just as rudely as all others were doing at Harry, but he didn’t care. Because standing there was the last person Harry had expected to come back, even less so than he had expected to come back himself; none other than  _ Draco Malfoy _ .

He looked taller than the last time Harry’d seen him during the Death Eater trials that summer, and slightly less bony - or he’d just gained some more weight. His time in France had apparently done his health some good, and he wasn’t the walking corpse he’d been the entirety of the last year. His skin was just as milky white, though, and Harry wondered that either he’d avoided the sun all-together or Malfoys just had a magical inability to tan like a normal human being. 

(It wouldn’t have been a huge surprise.) 

He wasn’t alone, which wasn’t a huge surprise either.

His mother was standing beside Malfoy wearing a long black coat - as if in mourning. Her hair was hanging loose like a long curtain shining underneath the shabby platform oil-lamps. She hadn’t changed much since Harry had last seen her. She did look scared however, her eyes darting around, her left hand was wrapped tightly around Malfoy’s arm as if to keep him from running away. 

Harry suspected when he caught sight of Narcissa’s wand in her other hand, that she wasn’t doing that to keep her son close - it was because she honest-to-god expected someone to jump up and attack them at any second. The fact that she felt the need to be on constant vigilance even when doing something as mundane as dropping off her son at school was both sickening and pathetic. The war was  _ over _ , goddamnit. 

Harry was just about to say something (what do you say to your ex-nemesis and the woman who saved your life after months of silence? Do you say “hi”? Apologise? Thank them? Smile and wave like the bloody Queen of England?) when Malfoy spotted them.

Malfoy’s entire demeanour instantly changed from bored to right-down  _ hatred _ . 

He scowled at Harry and his friends as if he’d spotted something quite nauseating, his nose scrunched up and eyes narrowed. It was a glance that hit Harry with a weird sense of familiarity -  _ there _ was the Malfoy he had known for five years before the stupid war had ruined everything. Harry almost wanted to smile at Malfoy, however odd that instinct was - when the boy sharply turned to his mother and muttered something under his breath before pulling her along towards the train. Narcissa didn’t even look back to see what exactly had caused this sudden reaction, but she was probably used to her son’s antics. 

“Like I said,” Ron said after a short while of silence, “I reckon he lasts two weeks tops.”

And Harry prayed to whatever deity that was listening that, however logical that comment might be, Ron was  _ wrong _ .

 

⚡

 

When the train finally rolled up to the Hogsmeade Station, it was raining. 

It was only befitting to Harry’s mood, and he stared up to the grey clouds above him with something akin to gratitude - at least the rain would drown up any tears someone might let fall at the first sight of Hogwarts. 

He hadn’t cried in weeks, but he knew that more than a few kids around him had lost people, too, and were probably more capable of feeling righteous emotions than he was. 

(And if his sight wasn’t betraying him, Ron was furiously wiping away wet stains from his face, mumbling about the  _ ‘sodding rain _ ’ with a definite crack in his voice. Hermione had grabbed his hand.) 

“C’mon, Harry,” Hermione grabbed his hand with her other one, and pulled both of them along to the carriages. His feet felt heavy and awkward, and he almost fell, if it hadn’t been for Hermione’s hand holding him up. “We can’t just stand here in the rain -”

She was interrupted as the first unnerving reminder of coming back hit them.

The thestrals.

Harry had been able to see them ever since Cedric died - the terrifyingly beautiful creatures invisible to all those who had not seen and understood the consequences of death. Neville had been able to see them, too, as did Luna. Now, however, all around Harry were students, students who had gasped and marvelled at the ‘invisible’ monsters during Cares of Magical Creatures just a few years ago, students who were now standing stock-still, staring open-mouthed at the thestrals. 

It wasn’t  _ fair _ , Harry thought, fighting back the the familiar headache. 

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. 

They shouldn’t have seen death, shouldn’t have seen people die in front of them - they weren’t even proper adults yet. 

For a fleeting second Harry wanted to pull out his wand and fight all of the thestrals, one by one - never mind the fact that they hadn’t done anything wrong, it wasn’t their fault. Hermione, though, cleared her throat and marched on again. 

“It’s going to be okay,” she said, not sounding all too sure of herself. “We just need time.”

_ Time,  _ Harry thought gloomily, exactly the thing so many people had been denied - all because of  _ him _ .

“Heya, Harry, Ron, Hermione!” came suddenly a voice, and the three of them jumped up in surprise. Neville was waving at them jovially, his face red with excitement. “Over here, I saved you guys a spot!”

“Hi, Neville,” Harry said, smiling for what felt the first time in days when they finally got to the carriage. He ignored all the kids gaping at them around him. “Nice to see you.”

And it was. 

The last time he’d seen Neville was when he’d killed Nagini - so many wounds visible (and invisible) Harry had lost count trying to identify them all. He’d been limping, bleeding, bruised; a walking corpse. Now, however, he looked more like the old Neville, slightly less plump than previous years, sure, but the smile looked similar and his skin seemed mostly healed safe for a tiny scar here and there. 

“Likewise, Harry,” He quickly scooted over the make room for Ron, as Hermione and Harry cramped up together on the other side of the carriage. Instantly - as if by magic - the carriage lurched forward, pulling them towards school. “How’s your summer been?”

“Lousy,” Harry replied with a smirk, nudging Hermione. She cocked an eyebrow at him. “‘ve been camped up with these two lovebirds. The noises they’ve been making have scarred me for life -”

Hermione scoffed, while Ron barked a laugh and said, “Ta, mate, truly.”

“Ah, yeah, I’d heard the news from Dean.” Neville was wide and genuine. “Congrats, you two, it took you a while.”

Harry snorted.  _ Understatement. _

“Er, thanks, I guess -” began Ron, shooting Hermione a quizzing look. 

“Oh, look!” Harry lamely interrupted Ron before Hermione could open her mouth, who looked ready to go into a two-hour interrogation in what exactly Neville had meant by that statement, “Hogwarts!”

Neville shot him a grateful look before turning his head towards where Harry was pointing, and he sighed contentedly as if he couldn’t quite help himself. “It looks beautiful.”

And despite the nauseating feeling Harry felt at seeing the place where he’d died just a few months prior he felt inclined to agree with Neville. Because despite everything, despite all the bad memories and all the hurt, it was still Hogwarts, it was still  _ home _ .

 

⚡

 

Even in the Great Hall it was pouring.

It looked beautiful as always, of course - decorated beautifully for the start-of-term feast. The familiar golden plates and goblets gleamed in the firelight of the hundreds and hundreds of candles, floating just a few feet above them midair. At the end of the Hall the staff sat along a long table facing the students, and Harry almost smiled at the familiar faces.

There was Professor Flitwick, his chest barely reaching the table, enthusiastically waving his hands around while in conversation with Professor Sprout, and there in the middle was the new Headmistress, Professor McGonagall, giving Harry a wink from across the hall. 

He waved back sheepishly.

It was both comforting and weird to see her up there, as if part of him had expected to see the familiar face of Dumbledore smiling down at them when the students entered the Great Hall. 

“Let’s just sit here,” Harry mumbled, quickly pulling down Ron and Hermione with him at the end of the table. The Gryffindor table looked more absent than normal, and he wasn’t quite ready to think about the fact that he knew exactly  _ why  _ the Great Hall looked so much more empty than it used to be. 

“What’s  _ that _ ,” Hermione said, pointing up to something on the side of the hall, “you don’t think it’s -”

Harry followed her finger, and quickly shook his head. “It can’t be.”

Because just a few feet before the professor’s table was a big lumped thing, covered in a white sheet - and it looked eerily familiar, the lump shaped like a huge cup on a pedestal. 

“Of course not,” she said, but she didn’t sound all too sure of herself. “They wouldn’t do that, not after Cedric -”

“Hey Harry,” Ginny interrupted her, smiling at him from a few seats away, waving at him. Her hair looked like fire in the candlelight, and she looked more beautiful than she’d ever looked before. For a second Harry wanted to run up to her, kiss her breathlessly, before remembering that  _ oh _ , yeah. He couldn’t do that anymore.

Then, as if by magic, Neville immediately materialised at her side.

She beamed up at him, “Neville.”

“Ginny,” He said, a bit nonplussed as if he hadn’t realised why he’d joined her side yet. He looked over at Harry, who just shrugged at him.

Ginny sighed, rolled her eyes, and scooted over to make room for him - Neville sat down so fast he knocked over Ginny’s goblet, which was knocked off the table and onto the Hufflepuff table next to them.  When a Hufflepuff boy yelled indignantly Neville just started blushing.

At Harry’s side, Ron began to chuckle, and Hermione quickly shushed him by kicking his leg underneath the table. The pain, apparently, wasn’t enough to subside his chuckling - if anything, it grew worse. 

“Ronald!” she scolded, “he’s your friend.”

“And he’s  _ pining _ ,” he sniggered, shooting Harry a smirk, “after  _ Ginny _ .”

“I feel like I should warn the guy,” Harry said, “she’ll kick his ass.” 

“I heard that, Potter!” Ginny yelled at him, smirking.

He stuck out his tongue at her.

Then, just when Ginny opened her mouth to retort something, the doors of the Great Hall opened with a  _ bam,  _ and a group of tiny, nervous-looking and soaked-through First Years scuffled inside, dripping all over the stoned floor.

Ron, his shoulders still shaking from suppressed laughter, shook his head. “I swear to Merlin, mate, they’re getting tinier every year. They’re like three inches tall.”

“I doubt they’re three inches, Ron, we were that small once, y’know.”

“No way.” Ron pointed at a particularly tiny kid shuffling by their spot. “That’s a goblin!”

“If you’d just stop  _ growing _ ,” Hermione muttered under her breath, “the rest of the world wouldn’t look so bloody small.”

Harry suppressed a snort.

Then he spotted him - Hagrid.

It was such a strong sense of familiarity that hit him when he saw Hagrid again that he forgot all about why he hadn’t wanted to come back - and it took every ounce of strength within Harry to  _ not _  jump up and run straight into Hagrid’s arms.

Because no matter what happened, no matter the fact that Hagrid had literally seen him die and carried him towards Hogwarts as a supposedly dead body - it was still Hagrid, he was still home to Harry.

Hagrid was waving jovially at him, his grin so wide it looked as if it was going to split his face in two, and he shouted across the entire Hall, “Hiya there, Harry!”

Instantly all heads turned to look at him, as if only just reminded that  _ Harry Potter  _ was there, the overall buzzing of everyone chatting seizing to an almost still.

Harry waved back sheepishly, praying to whatever deity that was listening that nobody would notice the heat rising to his cheeks. 

_ Turn away again guys, show’s over. _

And when Hermione and Ron waved, too, people turned to their neighbours again and they started talking.

“That was weird,” Ron muttered under his breath. “You’d think they’ve never seen Harry before.”

“They have,” Hermione said solemnly, “but he wasn’t  _ The Boy Who Lived Twice _ , then.”

Harry groaned, putting his head in his hands just as McGonagall clapped her hands for quiet. “Damned wizards and their bloody titles -”

“Good evening,” Professor McGonagall said to the school, standing in the spot Professor Dumbledore had once stood, her arms spread as if to hug them all. Then, suddenly, she snapped a quick, “Ginevra Weasley if you could cease that ridiculous chatter,  _ thank you _ ,” before continuing. Ginny, meanwhile, had lowered herself down in her seat, her ears as red as her hair. “To new students, welcome, to old ones, welcome back. It’s been a tough summer -”

“No shit,” Ron said.

“ - but we, Professors and students alike, are ready for a brand new start at Hogwarts.” She looked over at the Gryffindor table, where Seamus had erupted into laughter at Ron’s comment. He stopped immediately at her glare. “Now, First Years,” she continued airily, “it is time you were sorted in your respective houses. So then without further ado -” she stepped aside, and revealed something that was like an old friend to Harry - the Sorting Hat.

For a minute it was dead quiet, as if all people who’d been there during the Battle of Hogwarts remembered at the same time how, last time they’d seen the hat, it had been aflame atop Neville’s head, a sick little joke of Voldemort to torture the poor kid just before Neville had pulled out Godric’s sword from the hat to kill Nagini. 

(And no one but Harry, Ron and Hermione knew just how significant that moment had been.)

Then the slit of the head opened and the Sorting Hat began to sing;

 

_ Several thousand years ago _

_ when I was newly sown _

_ there lived four sorcerers _

_ whose names are still well known. _

_ Brave Gryffindor, from wild moor, _

_ fair Ravenclaw, from glen, _

_ kind Hufflepuff, from valley broad, _

_ smart Slytherin, from fen. _

_ They shared a hope, a dream, a wish _

_ they brew a daring plan _

_ to educate young sorcerers _

_ so Hogwarts School began. _

_ All of those four founders _

_ formed their own house, for each _

_ did value different qualities _

_ in the kids they had to teach. _

_ For Gryffindor, the daring were _

_ prized far beyond the rest; _

_ By Ravenclaw, the wittiest _

_ would always be the best; _

_ For Hufflepuff, hard workers were _

_ most worthy of admission; _

_ And power-hungry Slytherin _

_ loved those of great ambition.  _

_ When alive they did divide _

_ their favourites from the wrong, _

_ yet how to pick the worthy ones _

_ when they were dead and gone? _

_ ‘T was Gryffindor who found the way _

_ He took me from his head _

_ The founders put some brains in me _

_ So I could choose instead! _

_ But before you slip me about your ears, _

_ I’ve never yet been wrong, _

_ here’s some advice before _

_ I tell where you belong; _

_ Last year there was a war _

_ like one we’d seen before, _

_ friends and family we’d always loved  _

_ fought bravely ‘til no more. _

_ The houses that, like pillars four _

_ had once held up our school _

_ had turned upon each other and _

_ divided, sought to rule. _

_ And for a day it seemed the school _

_ had met an early end, _

_ what with duelling and fighting  _

_ and the clash of friend on friend. _

_ Yet we prevailed and all was well! _

_ United there we stood  _

_ as the dark lifted before our eyes, _

_ leaving us with light and good. _

_ I remind you, little children, _

_ old faces here and new, _

_ that this brand new era _

_ starts now with me and you. _

_ Don’t let the colours fool you _

_ of green, yellow, blue and red; _

_ united we must be _

_ until the very end. _

_ Onward to the coming years, _

_ let’s look into the thoughts within; _

_ Put me snug upon your ears _

_ and let the sorting now begin! _

 

“That’s certainly something else,” Hermione said as applause erupted around them, and she wasn’t the only one - everyone immediately started talking, heads turned towards their neighbours. 

The hat had given them advice again.

Which was fine, Harry had kind of expected it… but there was this one line that bugged him.

_ Until the very end. _

It was what his father had said to him before he’d walked to his death.

That they’d stay with him.

_ United we must be, until the very end. _

Was it a coincidence?

Of course it was. 

It had to be. 

No one had been there when he’d used the stone, and he hadn’t told anyone about seeing his parents and Sirius and Remus - not even Ron and Hermione. It had been such a private thing, almost fragile, as if the memory would shatter as soon as he told someone.

And yet the Sorting Hat just used -

“Bloody hell,” Ron shook his head, interrupting Harry’s gloomy thoughts, “I swear to god I’ve heard that speech before.”

“Not the last part, though,” Harry said, still unable to shake off the weird feeling of  déjà -vu from his mind. 

“No, no, the beginning.” Ron waved his fork around as if to make a point, and Hermione hastily ducked to avoid it getting into her hair. “Hasn’t the hat used those lines?”

Hermione frowned, quickly snatching Ron’s fork before any people got hurt, and said, “Maybe it recycles lines? And since we’re Eighth Years - which has never happened before - it was able to do so without raising suspicion?”

Ron snorted. “Daft little bugger. If he had to sort himself he’d be sorted into Slytherin, that’s for sure.”

“Or Gryffindor,” Hermione replied airily, “for laziness certainly isn’t a trait unfamiliar to you guys.”

“Hey now wait a minute -” Ron protested at the same time Harry started, “I don’t know what you’re trying to imply -”

“Order, order!” Professor McGonagall’s voice rang through the Hall, and the chatter ceased to an almost stop. She smiled, almost as if slightly impressed, and then began - “Davis, Philippa.”

A nervous-looking Korean girl stumbled up towards the stool, her eyes almost as big as saucers when McGonagall put the Sorting Hat on top of her head. For a second it was silent, everyone staring at the Hat and the girl kicking her feet up, when the Hat’s voice suddenly thundered,  _ “GRYFFINDOR!” _

Applause erupted from Harry’s table, and he was clapping along enthusiastically when the Philippa Davis - now beaming from ear to ear - skipped over to the Gryffindor table. 

“She looks happy,” Ron said gloomily just as McGonagall yelled “ _ Demora, Joanne!”,  _ “if they all could just do this a little quicker.”

“Ron,” Hermione scolded, “the sorting is an important ceremony! You’d think that after seven years -”

“Seven years of waiting for them to be sorted has made me hungry,” He complained, the hat yelling a happy “ _ HUFFLEPUFF!”, _ “At this point I could eat a Hippogriff.”

Harry snorted.

His gaze traveled from the trembling boy now taking his seat on the stool -  _ Erickson, Josh -  _ to the weirdly covered-up lump -  _ it couldn’t be what he thought it was _ \- towards the Slytherin table all across the Hall.

It was a habit, Harry supposed, a habit he’d picked up during Sixth Year that he never really grew out of. Or just something he did every single year ever since he’d come to Hogwarts, since watching him had always merited some need.  

Spotting Malfoy was as easy as breathing.

He wasn’t talking to either of his neighbours - both Zabini and Crabbe looked as if they were going to pass out from exhaustion - and he was playing with his wand, elevating his fork in the air and twirling it around, not very interested in the fact that  _ Fellon, Suha  _ had just been sorted into his own house.

It was a new wand - of course it was, Harry still had Malfoy’s wand stored in his room under the floorboard under his bed. He hadn’t even thought about giving it back… Okay, fine, that was a lie. He had thought about it. A lot. About what he’d say, what’d  _ Malfoy _ would say back - probably something insulting or him just snapping an angry, “ _ Potter,” _ \- and how Malfoy would snatch his wand back, maybe even scratching Harry’s hand in the process. 

He’d thought and fantasized and wondered, and now it was too late. 

The wand was slightly longer than Malfoy’s old one had been, and bent in odd places - where had he gotten it? The most famous wandmakers where Hogwarts students bought their wands usually had been either killed or tortured, after all. 

Had he gone abroad? 

The black market? 

The design certainly  _ looked _ foreign.

“Well, then,” Professor McGonagall suddenly said, and she clapped her hands. Harry immediately jumped up and turned to her, his cheeks hot as if he’d been caught. (Why were they hot? He hadn’t been  _ staring _ .) “Before we commence the much-deserved feast -” 

“ _ Finally _ ,” Ron muttered, oblivious to Hermione’s glare.

“- I have a short announcement to make.” She pointed at the sheet-covered lump, and smiled, as if almost nervous. “As we all are well aware, last year has been difficult.”

Harry hummed thoughtfully. That must’ve been the understatement of the century.

McGonagall waved her hand around as if aware of their thoughts. “We, the leaders of the three biggest magical schools in Europe, decided that,” she took a deep breath, “despite the war - no, because of it - we have to come together, internationally, to celebrate this time of peace. In remembrance of what happened the last time, in hope of what wonderful things lie ahead. Thus,” she waved her hand quickly, the sheet disappeared, and revealed the object that still haunted Harry’s nightmares -  _ the Goblet of Fire.  _ McGonagall, ignoring everyone’s obvious shock, thundered on bravely, “let us begin the 126th  _ Triwizard Tournament !” _

And Harry, staring up at the almost mockingly beautiful Goblet, wished for the millionth time that he never followed his friends back to Hogwarts.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are welcome, they're my nutrition, I can cook them or bake them or fry them, eat them raw - it's my fuel for future chapters. I'm a writer, I'm a freak like that.
> 
> Oh, and come yell at me at my [Tumblr](https://www.sappypotter.tumblr.com) / [Twitter.](https://twitter.com/sappyEliza)


End file.
